Somebody's Lover: The Jackson Brothers, Book 1

her sweet pussy.
    “Basketball anyone?” David climbed off the bench. “Rina needs practice with dribbling.”
    Rina, Mitch’s youngest, was doing fine with dribbling, splashes of mustard down her white shirt and a glob of coleslaw at the neckline. Connie scooped away the offending splotches, then patted her daughter’s behind and sent her after her uncle and grandpa. Mitch followed, as did Jamey and Brian.
    “I’ll finish making the fruit salad for dessert,” Taylor said as she lifted her legs over the bench seat and stood.
    “I’ll help clean up before I go out and play.” Jace wanted an excuse to trail Taylor into the kitchen.
    He stacked plates, heaped silverware, and shoved empty cups into each other. Damn, he felt good. It was pathetic what a little hope could do. And last night on the phone had given him hope. He wanted to hear Taylor moan again, drink in the sound of her pleasure, her hitched breath as she came. He wanted to touch her all over.
    Connie dragged two lawn chairs over to the side of the backyard basketball court. “You want to watch, Mom?” she called.
    His mom looked at him, then the leftover barbecue mess. “Go ahead,” he told her. “I’ll take care of it.”
    She rose slowly, then rested both palms on the table. “Tell Taylor to call us when the fruit salad’s ready.”
    Yes. A few minutes alone in the kitchen, a soft word, a touch. Taylor would be crazy, and the salad would be late.
    “Sure, Mom.”
    Taylor stood at the counter slicing bananas when he entered. “I thought only the grilling was man’s work,” she said without looking at him.
    He dumped the load of plates by the sink. “Oh, I think a man’s work is far more than flipping burgers. Especially if he wants to keep a woman happy.”
    She gave him a sideways glance, then pointed with the tip of her knife. “Put the cutlery in the dishwasher and throw the plates in the garbage under the sink,” she said, then added, “Please.”
    He closed in on her. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t I show you my boyhood room?”
    “Not,” but she smiled as she said it. “I’ve seen your boyhood room. Two twin beds, one for Brian and one for Jamey when they sleep over.”
    “Ah, but have you laid down on one of them?”
    “No, I have not. Now start loading the dishwasher or I’ll call your mother and tell her you’re not pulling your weight.”
    She started peeling an orange, the citrus scent wafting up from her fingers as he leaned in to blow lightly against her hair.
    “I’ll load after you lay down on the bed with me. Five minutes, then I’ll let you up.” He dragged his thumb down her bare arm, his finger brushing the side of her breast.
    She drew in a breath and stopped slicing oranges. “Five minutes? What can you do in five minutes?”
    He circled her ear with his tongue, then whispered. “I can make you come. Twice.”
    She shivered and held onto the edge of the counter. “Oh God, Jace, this is idiotic. We can’t go to your room. Someone could walk in on us.”
    Dammit, he didn’t care. He moved behind her, rubbed his cock in the crease of her ass. “I’ll lock the door.”
    “It doesn’t have a lock.” This time, she held onto the counter with both hands.
    “I’ll put a chair under the doorknob.”
    “No. It’s too risky.”
    “Sometimes the risk can be worth it.” When she didn’t respond to his underlying message, he cupped her breasts. He worked her back and front, rubbing her nipples until they hardened against his fingers, and pressing into her bottom, letting her feel how damn hard he was. For her.
    Outside on the basketball court, there were shouts of triumph and squeals of laughter.
    “Or,” he murmured, “I could put my hand in your shorts and make you come right here.”
    She elbowed him back, then rounded, holding the knife in front of her. “Back off, bud. Or I’ll have to slice up your little banana.”
    “Little?” God, he wanted her, that smile, her laughter against his lips, her body in his hands.
    “Very little.”
    He held up his hands. “I’m wounded immensely.”
    She jabbed with the knife. “Back three more steps or you’re in big trouble, buster.”
    He backed up until his butt hit the kitchen table. “Playing with a knife is dangerous.”
    “I’m not playing.” She feinted once more, her eyes sparkling.
    If he could get her to go back to his room with him...
    “What the hell?” David slammed the kitchen screen door behind him.
    “He